


maybe the truth's not what we need

by dexdefyingstunts



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Costume Kink, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Praise Kink, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-12 10:07:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28508694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dexdefyingstunts/pseuds/dexdefyingstunts
Summary: Tonight, like every night, there are shadows above Gotham. Batman and Robin are patrolling the skies, part comfort and part threat, depending on who you ask.But Robin looks different, tonight.Or: Years later, Bruce and Dick play at being Batman and Robin again.
Relationships: Dick Grayson/Bruce Wayne
Comments: 13
Kudos: 86





	maybe the truth's not what we need

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ivyfernleaflet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivyfernleaflet/gifts).



> who mentioned in a comment the idea of Bruce/Dick doing Batman and Robin roleplay. I got inspired. I hope you like it!
> 
> Title is from "Cold Arms" by Mumford and Sons

It’s just after one o’clock in the morning in Gotham.

The city is noisy, at least in places. There’s music blaring from the bars, people in the streets, neon lights, cars driving through. Thousands of people going about their business, and in certain corners, going about more dangerous business. The stench of millions hangs heavy in the air. There’s smog in the sky, making the city grey as well as black, filling it up with that familiar ghastly tinge. Though, there’s less smog now than there used to be. On a night like tonight, the light of the full moon can just barely penetrate the heavy cloud. If you’re up on the rooftops you can just barely see it, moonbeams through the fog.

If you’re up on the rooftops, above the city, you might see _them_ as well. A shadow behind a gargoyle might be just a trick of the light. It could be a bogeyman, or a demon. But in Gotham, sometimes those shadows take shape, forming themselves into the protectors of the city. Our caped crusaders.

The city’s different now. Any old-timer can tell you that much, although they might disagree about whether it’s _better_ than it used to be. Old-timers are like that. The children now don’t remember what it was like, before the Bat. Before the Bats, before their presence could be felt in every corner of the city. Before the evil in Gotham learned to fear the dark. You’d be hard-pressed to find an old-timer who really _wants_ the children to find out what it was like.

Tonight, like every night, there are shadows above Gotham. Batman and Robin are patrolling the skies, part comfort and part threat, depending on who you ask.

But Robin looks different, tonight. This isn’t the current Robin, with his green hood and his dangerous smile. No, this is someone else. He’s slimmer, more lithe. The way he moves is different, twisting and tumbling like he’s never heard of straight lines.

That’s not where the differences stop. This Robin is wearing the old costume. The one that hasn’t been seen on the streets of Gotham for ten years at least. You know the one, with the little green hot pants. But this Robin isn’t a little boy, not like the Robin from all those years ago. This Robin is all grown up. On him, the shorts aren’t cute and maybe a little campy, like they would be on a kid. On this Robin, the shorts look downright _dirty_. Like something you might see in a male strip club, if strippers wore bright green, or yellow capes.

(Well, some of them do, these days. At least in Gotham.)

Tomorrow, some people will be talking about it. Wondering who this Robin is, why his costume is like that. Come to think of it, why was the original Robin’s costume like that in the first place? And they’ll wonder about it, to their roommates or their coworkers or their bat-watch internet forums, spinning out theories and arguing favorite heroes, and debating what exactly was going on last night.

If you leaned out your window at just the right moment, you might be able to get a picture of them. Gotham’s famous dynamic duo- or at least, a version of them. Flying through the air, or landing on your rooftop, out of all the roofs in Gotham. The legend suddenly made flesh. Or maybe just a flash of capes, one black, one yellow, streaming through the air too fast to follow.

You might find them to be a nuisance. A daily annoyance, like the traffic, or the weather. Or, you might think of them as heroes. A source of civic pride, or a celebrity sighting, of a sort. The kind of celebrity that lives in one town, so after a while, all of the residents have their own stories about them.

But either way, you’ve gotten used to them.

It’s impossible to imagine Gotham without Batman and Robin.

**…**

Bruce is hidden in shadows.

There’s three men unloading large wooden crates on the dock in the dead of night. Bruce watches them carefully, counting the crates, remaining perfectly still. These ones are smart, at least. They’re keeping a sharp eye out, they’ve picked a corner that’s nearly hidden amongst shipping containers, and they’re moving quickly and efficiently.

“Hurry the fuck up,” one of the men says. Light Gotham accent, Bruce notes. Like he’d lived here and then moved away, maybe. “We’ve got a short ass window to get these out before we get noticed.”

“Oh come the fuck on,” one of the others says. New York. “Even your stupid bat can’t be everywhere at once.”

Maybe not. But then, that’s why it’s so important to have a partner.

A new voice rings out into the night, much louder, lilting brightly into the silence. “Now what are boys like you doing here at a time like this?”

All three men look up from their crates, towards the sound of the voice. And then they see Robin. He’s casually leaning up against a shipping container, arms crossed, grinning at the three men. There’s a dim streetlight coming down and making a spotlight, illuminating Dick in those little scaly green shorts and lace-up boots, his bare legs crossed, the yellow cape draping around him like liquid. Bruce can’t help but think Dick looks stunning like this. He’s dripping confidence, utterly shameless, completely in his element, staring boldly at the men on the dock. “What’s the matter,” Dick quips. “Bat got your tongue?”

“What the fuck’s with the rentboy?” the third man says, bemused, while the New York one pulls out a gun and moves forward.

“Get the fuck out,” New York says, brandishing the gun, maybe fifteen feet away from Dick.

Dick just laughs in his face. It’s the Robin laugh, bright and cheery and brash, completely out of place in Gotham’s darkness, and completely at home with Dick. Bruce would be lying if he said hearing it didn’t make him shiver.

The third man pulls out his own gun. “Take a hike, pretty boy.”

The Gothamite, on the other hand, is spinning away from Dick, looking in the opposite direction, eyes wild with fear. They’ve learned.

And yet, they still never think to look up.

Batman leaps down off the shipping container, with all the fury of a descending god, landing directly on top of the third man, who’s standing in the middle of the three men. As soon as Bruce’s feet leave the container, Dick is _moving_ , suddenly snapping from casual, lounging into full attack mode. He runs directly at the New Yorker, dropping to the ground just as gunshots sound out, cracking through the air, and Dick takes his legs out with a sweeping kick. At the same time, Bruce is dropping the third man with a nerve strike to the back of the neck, and he crumples to the ground.

Dick rolls on top of his man, grabbing the gun and chucking it, knocking him out with a quick strike across the head. He looks up at Bruce, grinning delightedly, before spring to his feet and charging forwards. At the other end of the path, the Gothamite is making a break for it, running hellbent towards the ship. He’s not going to make it that far.

Bruce doesn’t need to ask what Dick’s planning. He can read his body just as well now as he could in the old days, if not better. Dick catches up with him, and Bruce turns sideways, planting his feet and reaching his arms out. Dick leaps nimbly into them, and Bruce throws him, giving him a springboard up into the air.

(A move they’ve done hundreds of times before. It still works just as well as it used to, even if Dick is a little bit bigger these days, and Bruce has had to adjust his holds, his angles, his levels of force. But it still works beautifully. Dick still flies beautifully, just like he’s always done.)

Dick rockets forwards, doing a perfect double somersault at the top of his arc, before thrusting the cape out wide with his arms, using it to fly forwards. Dick lands neatly on the man’s shoulders, wrapping his legs around the man’s neck in a chokehold and taking him down to the ground. It’s devastating, the sight of Dick choking a man out with his thighs. Batman remains a stoic, unflappable exterior, as always. But behind the cowl, Bruce _burns_.

Dick pulls out a ziptie and secures the man’s hands behind his back, before getting up off of him, and dragging the man over to the crates. Bruce has an eye and an ear out for more trouble, of course, but mostly he’s watching Dick work.

Dick beams down at the man, standing above him. The guy looks somewhere between scared shitless and turned on, with Dick nearly naked in the Robin uniform, standing crotch at eye level. “Sorry to fight and run,” Dick says, all playful humor. “But we’ve really got to get going. And it looks like you’re a little tied up at the moment.”

And with that, Dick shoots his grapple up into the sky, and Bruce follows him, up onto the shipping containers. Batman and Robin, rising up into the sky, disappearing into the night.

**…**

When Commissioner Gordon arrives, he’s sure to look up. Robin’s waiting, looking down at him from his perch. He gives a cheeky salute before running off into the night.

Gordon sighs, turning to the task at hand. _The more things change_. Gordon briefly considers wondering why the oldest Robin is out in his old costume. Then he shakes his head, deciding he _really_ doesn’t need to know.

**…**

They make it maybe four blocks, swinging over rooftops in tandem, before they drop onto a roof and Batman grabs Robin by the wrist, dragging him into a dark corner, hidden by a shed.

Dick grins, giddy from adrenaline, as he follows Bruce into the shadows. God, there’s nothing better than this. Dick loves being Nightwing, loves leading a team, loves flying with the younger bats. But this? Batman and Robin, on the mean streets of Gotham, perfectly in sync? This is the stuff dreams are made of.

(It’s a lie, of course. A game of pretend. They’re not _them_ anymore. But oh, what a delicious lie to jump into and crawl around in. The kind of lie you can build a whole life on, if you’re not careful.)

Bruce turns, his back against the wall, and Dick doesn’t hesitate to leap up, wrapping his legs around Bruce’s middle and kissing him. Bruce kisses him _thoroughly_ , one hand bracing against the small of Dick’s back, the other cradling Dick’s head with gauntleted fingers.

Dick moans softly into Bruce’s mouth, rocking against Bruce’s armored stomach. He’s already so hard inside the little green panties, his cock making an obvious bulge. He knows Bruce is too, bets he has been ever since Dick took out those goons on the dock. Honestly, Dick’s been fighting a losing battle against getting hard ever since he put on the old uniform, back in the cave, and saw the way it made Bruce look at him.

“B,” Dick pants between kisses, rolling his hips meaningfully.

“I’ve got you, chum.” It comes out in Batman’s voice, gruff and low, and Dick would be lying if he said his dick didn’t twitch at that, Bruce saying the old, sweet nickname in that heated, dirty tone.

Bruce slips one finger into the waistband of Dick’s tight green hot pants, then trails it under the band, tracing a bath from the back to the front. Dick shudders and leans back to give Bruce some more room, leaning into Bruce’s hand and using his core muscles to keep himself steady.

Bruce’s hand slips lower, sliding into the shorts, and Dick bites back a groan as the textured surface of Bruce’s gauntlets brush against his cock. It’s rough against the sensitive skin, and Dick gives the smallest whimper as Bruce takes his cock in hand and begins to stroke it.

“Shhhh,” Bruce murmurs. “Easy, Robin.” He’s still in Batman’s register, but his voice is kind, now. The voice of Dick’s mentor, when he used to be gentle with him, patient with him, always teaching him everything Dick wanted to know. The voice that, even now, makes Dick melt entirely inside.

One of Dick’s gloved hands comes up to his mouth, and he bites his fist to muffle his noises. Bruce strokes him steadily, working his cock with a firm grip. The armor almost scrapes against Dick’s cock, just a _little_ too much, setting every nerve on fire from the overstimulating pleasure-pain, and Dick makes a choked noise, biting harder on his own hand, bucking his hips forward and fucking Bruce’s hand, chasing the sweet delicious friction that’s building up a heat inside of him.”

“That’s it,” Bruce says quietly. “That’s good, Robin.”

Batman’s praise hits Dick right in the chest, and suddenly he’s coming, the entirely world going bright-white with pleasure. Dick cries out, coming inside of the tight little green panties, getting it all over Batman’s armored hand.

“So good, Robin,” Bruce says huskily, voice rough with lust. He slides his hand out of Dick’s shorts and brings it up to Dick’s mouth. Dick grabs Bruce’s wrist with one hand, and reaches out with his tongue to lap his own come off of the armored gauntlet, licking up Bruce’s palm and between his fingers, still panting and glowing from orgasm. The taste of metal and the musky, slightly-bitter taste of his own release burst over Dick’s tongue, and Dick savors the combination.

Once Bruce’s hand is clean, he brings the tips of two fingers up to Dick’s lips. Dick opens his mouth obligingly, and Bruce slides them in. Dick sucks eagerly on Bruce’s fingers, and Bruce slides them in and out, rubbing them against Dick’s tongue.

After a few minutes of that, Bruce slides his fingers back out, and grabs Dick around the middle with both hands, lifting him up. Dick unwraps his legs from Bruce’s torso, and lets himself be picked up and then set down onto the ground on his knees.

Dick’s bare knees meet the concrete, and he looks up at Bruce from where he’s kneeling at his feet. “C’mon, B,” Dick says breathlessly. “C’mon, Batman.”

Bruce gives a whole-body shudder at that. He leans back against the wall and undoes the catches on the front of his suit, pulling his cock out.

Dick drinks in the sight of Bruce standing over him in the Batman suit, every inch of skin covered except for his big fat cock, which is standing up hard in Bruce’s armored hand. It’s a view that Dick could look at _forever_.

But there’s more important things to do right now.

Dick leans forward and licks a wet strip up Bruce’s cock, loving the way it twitches at the contact. He wraps one set of gloved fingers around the base and brings it to his mouth, wrapping his lips around the head and suckling softly. Bruce lets out a low groan, his hips pushing forward. Dick lets him, relaxing his throat and opening his mouth wider, pushing his head down lower on Bruce’s cock until the whole thing is down his throat. Dick starts to bob his head up and down, and Bruce rocks with him, fucking into Dick’s mouth in little movements.

Bruce grabs a handful of Dick’s hair with one gauntleted fist, and Dick lets out a muffled moan. Bruce starts to fuck harder, thrusting into Dick’s throat with a purpose, and Dick goes limp and lets him.

“So good,” Bruce growls out in Batman’s rough tones. “Robin. My good Robin.”

Suddenly, Bruce yanks Dick off of his cock by the hair. He keeps a hard grip on it, forcing Dick to tilt his head back, looking up at Bruce and gasping for air. Bruce’s other hand comes to his cock and starts working it roughly, hard and fast.

“Batman,” Dick says hoarsely, blinking up at Bruce. “Batman, _please_.”

“ _Robin._ ” Bruce comes with a dark, rough noise, painting Dick’s upturned face with ropes of hot, thick come. Dick closes his eyes and lets out a soft whimper, letting himself be covered in Bruce’s warm seed. A pulse of it hits Dick’s chest, dripping all over the Robin uniform he’s wearing, and Dick shudders.

Bruce releases the hand in his hair, and Dick falls forwards, catching himself on his hands and knees. His knees are all scraped up, from the friction against the concrete of the roof. Dick feels Batman grab him and turn him over, bringing him into a seated position, and something soft wipes away the mess on his face.

Dick blinks his eyes open, and sees Bruce, costume now readjusted, sitting next to him with his back against the wall, just as Bruce gathers Dick in his arms and pulls him into his lap. Dick wraps his arms around Bruce’s neck and rests his head on Bruce’s shoulder. Bruce pulls his cape around Dick like a blanket, wrapping him up safely.

“Batman,” Dick mumbles into Bruce’s shoulder.

“Yes?”

Dick shakes his head. “ _Batman_.”

Bruce nods then, understanding, and one broad, strong hand rubs at Dick’s back. “Robin.” He strokes Dick’s back gently, reassuringly, and Dick melts into it, basking in Bruce’s praise. “My Robin. My good, brave Robin.”

It’s the sweetest lie Dick’s ever heard.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments give me wings! Also feel free to come say hi on [tumblr](https://dexdefyingstunts.tumblr.com/)!


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